


As The World Falls Down

by Empress_Irony



Series: The Chiaroscuro-verse [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Chiaroscuroverse, Crappy Internet Misogyny, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Parental Conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress_Irony/pseuds/Empress_Irony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Myrcella barely registered her older brother's outburst before he left the room, the door slamming in his wake. She was too busy staring into middle space in blank shock. Her father wasn't her father. Her father wasn't the big, jolly Father Sevenmas of her childhood, or the funny but deeply flawed man of later on – it was a stranger."</p><p>Myrcella Baratheon's world has fallen down about her ears, but life must go on and she has a catering qualification to complete, a brother to emotionally support and a not-biological-but-still-her-father to build bridges with. It would be enough to make her scream, even if the emotional turmoil did happen to bring a certain blue-eyed junior lawyer onto her radar...</p><p>Part of the Chiaroscuro-verse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. Don't Tell Me Truth Hurts Little Girl...

Chapter One: Don't Tell Me Truth Hurts, Little Girl...

 

Myrcella barely registered her older brother's outburst before he left the room, the door slamming in his wake. She was too busy staring into middle space in blank shock. Her father wasn't her father. Her father wasn't the big, jolly Father Sevenmas of her childhood, or the funny but deeply flawed man of later on – it was a stranger. Or maybe it was someone she knew. She thought of all the blonde men that she had ever seen with her mother and felt mildly sick. Who knew if she even shared the same biological father as her brothers? It was all so nauseating.

 

And now Tommen was crying. Myrcella broke out of her funk and took the twelve year-old into her arms. Ned and Father, no – _Robert –_ looked devastated. Her mother looked irritated.

“Come on, don't cry!” Cersei said testily. “It's not the end of the world, why can't you be a big brave boy like Joff?” Myrcella stared daggers at her mother. It was bad enough that she spoke to Tommen like he was two, but to compare him to Joffrey? Really? _Really?_

“W-why do I have to chose?” Tommen asked in hiccuping sobs.

“No-one's forcing you to choose, Tommen.” Ned Stark explained kindly. “Robert is saying that you may still consider him your father if you wish, and he will continue to act as your father – if you want it.”

“Actually Ned, now that the cat's out of the bag I want my children to have nothing to do with that man over there,” Cersei declared coolly. Myrcella saw Tyrion slap his palm into his forehead from the corner of her eye. Tyrion wasn't technically a lawyer in the employ of Lannister Communications, but he had come in to oversee this mess after an order on high from his father. Myrcella simply couldn't believe how shameless the woman was being.

“Ms Lannister didn't mean to say that,” Tyrion jumped in. “She meant that perhaps a cooling down period ought to take place before any major decisions about their futures are made.”

“Ms Lannister certainly did mean to say that,” Cersei sneered. “I want that fat, drunken oaf to have nothing more to do with _my_ children.”

“Have I earnt nothing?” Robert asked wearily, looking more tired than Myrcella had ever seen him. “I helped raise them for nearly a quarter of a century and you try and wave me off with a “fuck you very much and goodbye!”” He spat out.

“Before you were just a sperm donor, now you're not even that!” His soon-to-be-ex riposted.

 

Tommen's sobs became more silent and intense against Myrcella's shoulder. She held him a little tighter and shared a worried look with Tyrion, who in turn glanced at Ned.

“My dear sweet sister, perhaps you ought to calm down a tad before you traumatise your offspring any more than you already have done today?” The dwarf said in a tone of light contempt.

“A whoring, commitmentphobe imp doesn't get to tell me how to raise my children,” the supermodel hissed at her brother.

“You don't get to pretend that your shit smells of roses today, Cersei! Not today! Today you stink just like the rest of us poor mortals; except you are in some deep shit right now my dear sweet sister, and if you'll shut your pretty little mouth a moment, I might have a hope in seven hells of getting you out of this mess!” He hissed right back.

 

Myrcella ignored the ensuing bickering between her mother and her uncle, and sought out the face of Ned Stark. He looked so sad and so calm. A point of quiet in the midst of Tommen's sobs, her mother's arguing and Robert's despair. It was oddly soothing. He locked eyes with the lawyer and declared in a loud, calm voice:

“I accept.” All of a sudden, the room was nothing but quiet. She looked over at Robert, whose face had surfaced from his hands. “I want you to still be my father.” She clarified.

“Darling girl, you're not related. You don't have to please him anymore.” Cersei interjected.

“So, who am I related to?” Myrcella shot back. “I've known him my whole life, I can't just stop thinking of him as my father just because a few lines on a DNA test don't match up.”

“Sweetling, you're not thinking clearly. Come with me and we can go on a nice girly day out, some retail therapy would be nice – wouldn't it?” Her voice sounded sweeter than sugar syrup.

“Look, Mum. I love you, but I love him too. Just don't make us choose.”

 

Cersei laughed hollowly.

“There's no choice to be made! He doesn't count anymore! Family is the most important thing and he's no longer family; you can get with the program or find yourself without one.”

 

The room fell into a shocked silence. Had she just..?

 

“I want to live with U-u-ncle J-jaime!” Tommen sobbed. “I d-don't w-want t-to live with any of you when y-you w-won't stop being so... So... _C-cruel_ to each other.”

“Don't be so stupid,” Cersei told her son. “He's in Dorne right now, recruiting for his freakshow.”

“I don't care!” Tommen screamed. “At least Brienne is nice to me!” Myrcella started as the bottled up rage came from her arms. “She doesn't compare me to Joff all the time!”

“Don't bring that ugly cow into this, you little ingrate!” She screamed right back.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Myrcella defended him.

“And what? I suppose you want to live with the oversized bitch as well?” She shot back.

“No, but I sure as hell don't want to live with you right now!”

“Where are you going to live in the holidays? With your little wannabe chef friends? They aren't going to fund you when the student loan runs out,” she snorted.

“I'll live with Dad.”

“For the last time, Myrcella: _He is not your father._ ”

“Then _who is?!_ ” Okay, that came out a little louder than she intended it too.

 

The entire room waited on Cersei's answer with bated breath. Her mouth remained resolutely shut, a mutinous gleam in her eyes.

“You keep saying that he's not my father... But you don't say who is instead. What am I meant to think? Meant to feel? I mean...” Myrcella took a moment to steady her shaking voice. “Do you even know who he is?” It was a low blow, but she was too busy trying to hold it together to care.

 

The sound of the slap echoed across the room. Her cheek stung as she looked back at her mother, - Cersei's hand still hovering in the air as she shivered with rage. Horror momentarily flickered over the older woman's face before something steely settled in her eyes.

“Fine.” She said in a low voice. “Have it your way. Be a Baratheon. But don't come crawling to me when it all comes crashing down about your ears; because no Lannister will have you after today.“ With that, Cersei left the room.

 

Everyone stared at Myrcella. All she could do was stare at the wall, not registering Tommen's heat leaving her arms.

“Myrcella, she didn't -” Tyrion started.

“No.” She looked up sharply. “She did. It's okay.” Her uncle looked sceptical. “No really. After today I don't want anything to do with her either.”

“Myrcella,” Ned began kindly. “Don't lock any doors you might want to open again in the future. Maybe not now, but some day you will want to see her again.”

“Thanks.” She swallowed, trying not to cry. “We've always butted heads, me and Mum. She didn't get it, when I said I wanted to go to catering college. She wanted me to be a model, like her and Joff. Keep it in the family. You got it.” Her eyes slid to Robert Baratheon and his watery smile. “You convinced her that maybe I thought there was more to life than being really, really good looking. And that if you set me up with a restaurant she'd always have a table at one of the best places in town.” She her wavered a little as she turned to Tyrion. “Are you going to take Tommen home? At least until Jaime gets back?”

“Of course, my sweet girl.” He replied immediately. “Do you want to stay at mine for a few days? I'm sure we can write the college a note of some kind.”

“No, I um. I want to go home.”

 

She left the room without looking back.

 

She was stood on the platform, waiting for the train to go back to Nettlestown when the full gravity of everything came crushing down on her. It seemed all of a sudden as though the cold, grey, miserable sky was going to crash down her. She felt tears pricking at her eyelids. She pulled her white beanie down and her parka hood up. If she was going to make a scene and cry she's rather no-one took a photo and posted it on Shockfeed.

 

The more she thought about the disasters of the morning, the more she couldn't hold back her tears. Everything her mother said, everything she herself had said. She felt so... _Wretched._ And alone. She stared resolutely down at the rails in front of her, the detail of the gravel and the metal becoming less and less defined as she began to cry quietly.

 

She was distracted by the sound of an umbrella opening abover her head. She looked over at the man next to her, the one who suddenly had her completely covered by a brolly. He was a few years older than her, with a shock of curly auburn hair somehow tamed into a side-parting; there was something about his startlingly blue eyes that reminded her of something she couldn't put her finger on, something that wasn't forget-me-nots or summer skies. If she had been less miserable, she would have been inclined to call him handsome.

“Thanks , but it's not raining yet. And I have a hood.” She attempted a smile.

“Oh, I don't know...” He said slowly. “It seems like its pouring in here.” Her smile faltered. “My train isn't for another quarter of an hour, I'm just going to stand here with my umbrella open for that time. Now unfortunately, I have a blind-spot at the corner of my eye – about where you're standing.” He continued. “So, if you want to um, have a cathartic cry or something away from prying eyes I won't, well. Look.”

“Thank you.” She said to the handsome stranger before she looked down again. Her tears began to flow again, but now rather than overflowing with misery – she was grateful that simple kindness still existed. Her own world may fall down, but there could still be a place for her out here – where a kind stranger would put up his umbrella to let her weep in semi-privacy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, that was all a bit... Dramatic, wasn't it? Sorry about the melodrama. Calm and more three-dimensional characterisation to come!
> 
> Title comes from Underground by David Bowie and I'm on tumblr as empress-irony, if you want to say hi.


	2. 2. ...'Cause it hurts like hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said that I would finish off Rewards of Impertinence first? This ended up being finished first.
> 
> Yeah, you know when I promised calm at the end of last chapter? I lied. Sorry. 
> 
> Warnings for: Horrendous homophobic and misogynistic language

Chapter Two: … 'Cause it hurts like hell

 

By the time she reached the house that she shared with Hotpie and Willow, Myrcella was soaked. A small autumn storm had hit the moment she had alighted the train at Nettlestown, and her poor parka had been soaked through within minutes. Where were kind strangers when you needed them? Mind, with the cold gale that had started blowing even Mr Blue Eyes wouldn't have escaped the storm's wrath. Then again, Mr Blue Eyes probably would have charmed his way out of a soaking with a flash of his smile and a few well-chosen words; he seemed like the type.

 

She'd dedicated a good deal of time thinking about Mr Blue Eyes on the train home; because the more she thought about him, the less she thought about the gaping hole that seemed to be taking up more and more space in her soul every time she looked. So she didn't look for a while. Instead she amused herself by imagining increasingly outrageous backstories for Mr Blue Eyes. Maybe he was a suave super-spy with a heart of gold? The tailored pinstripe suit and full-length umbrella certainly fit the bill. Maybe the umbrella concealed a rapier! Maybe he was on his way to confront a Lyseni people smuggler and it would all end in a high-octane fencing match on top of a container at the docks! Or perhaps he was a time-travelling wizard that only appeared to those in need, against his will; and instead of railing against his fate, he had accepted his calling and become kind and chivilarous to all in need of comfort...

 

Soon the rain had been all the distraction that she had needed; but now she was inside in the warm and changed into dry clothes, all she could think about was... _That._ She needed to cook! That was a good idea! Now was the perfect time to work on her amuse-bouche assignment. She was sure that she had the ingredients to start working on her savouries... Hotpie found her elbow deep in doughnut mix when he returned later that afternoon, - flour all over her apron, hair coming loose from its bun, and a contented gleam in her eye.

“Hey!” She exclaimed a touch louder than she intended.

“Hey Myrcie, you okay?” He asked cautiously. She felt her heart plummet. Oh. Her little family drama was probably frontpage news; she hadn't been online since the previous day, so she wasn't sure. He probably knew more of the dirty details than she did.

“Could be better, could be worse” she shrugged with a slightly forced smile. “How was college?”

“It happened.” He wouldn't meet her eye and seemed suddenly too busy taking his coat off. Well, that was odd.

“Hotpie, you love even the most boring of days as long as you're in the kitchen.” She frowned. “What's up?”

“It's just... I'm not sure you should go in tomorrow.” He seemed very interested in the detailing of the worktop. Her heart plummeted.

“Why's that?” She asked.

“There were a lot of photographers about and people...” His brought his dark eyes up to meet hers. “I don't think you want to hear what everyone's saying about you and your family.”

“What are they saying, Hotpie?” She asked quietly. _“What are they saying?”_ She repeated louder. “I'm going to find out anyway.”

“But you shouldn't today.” Quiet understanding suffused every word. “And not from me. Because I refuse to be the nasty voice in your head when you think about today.” He touched her arm. She looked away.

“I should tidy up in here.” She said in an almost-whisper. She swallowed. “Willow will go mental if she sees the mess.”

“Yeah.” Without another word, he left the room.

 

She covered up her doughnut mixture and put it in the airing cupboard to rise. All too soon, she had done the washing-up and had nothing but an empty room to distract her. She got her phone out to check the timer she'd set. The icon for the internet browser seemed brighter and more insistent than usual. Myrcella knew that she shouldn't torture herself by looking, but...

“I'm home!” Willow called out before slamming the front door. Myrcella jumped and nearly dropped her phone. She stuffed it quickly in her pocket.

“Hiya!” She called back.

 

She got a bowl out. She could work on the stuffing for her amuse-bouche; that should keep her mind busy for a while.

 

****************************

 

Myrcella, Hotpie and Willow had had fun trying to wrangle get the roquefort sauce into the doughnuts without destroying anything. There was still a large unsightly hole in the side, but she supposed that she could always make a feature of that if she arranged some parsley there – maybe some kind of edible flowers... But then Willow had to go and do her management homework, Hotpie had got a phonecall, and Myrcella was left sitting alone in her room. With a shaky sigh, she booted up her laptop.

 

With the benefit of hindsight, Shockfeed was perhaps not the best place to start. They were all over the story like a rash. She felt shaky and sick as she found out that somehow _everyone knew_ that there had been a meeting that day. Her desire to vomit only increased as she read each time-stamped update at the top of the page:

 

_UPDATE 13.38: Youngest child (Child T) has been spotted shopping for pyjamas with his uncle, lawyer Tyrion Lannister. Sources close to the family speculate that he has been removed from his parents for his own safety._

 

_UPDATE 10.45: The family meeting is now over, with all parties leaving separately. Middle-child Myrcella is reported to have looked “stunned and miserable,” whilst supermodel sensation Cersei Lannister was “spitting tacks.”_

 

_UPDATE 10.37: According to our sources, Joffrey Baratheon(?) has been seen storming out of the family crisis meeting at the Blackwater & Lannister offices. He was, apparently, “aggressive to all those in his path.”_

 

Numb horror spread through her. Someone was leaking information on them. There were even pictures of them as they left the building. Someone at Tyrion's office, or Ned Stark's or... It could be any number of people. And what was this bullshit about Tommen being “removed for his own safety”?! She might not be looking at her mother with her rainbow glasses on at the moment, but even she knew that Tommen wasn't in danger. She really ought to gave stopped reading there, but the comments section was too horrifying to look away from.

 

_Mocking_Bird1789 says:_

“ _Sexiest woman alive,” huh? Bitch has been on the skids for years. Rich editor hubbie has been the only thing keeping her in the game, oh wait!_

 

_MrsWB says:_

_Poor kids! What a heartless woman! I cd neva do anythin like that 2 my Roosie. Wonder who the real papa is?_

 

_Tentacle_Grrl replied:_

_Wonder if she even knows, lol._

 

_Greenhands &Eggs replied:_

_Gotta suck to be them right now._

 

_1LEGIT_B*STARD says:_

_LMAO, Daddy couldn't hep u out here – could he??! U can't just pay for the problem 2 go away, u gotta get ur hands dirty now ya rich bitch!_

 

_NedWhite &Blue says:_

_Is it just me, or is the daughter way better looking than the mother? Y'know, scrub her up a bit, give her a smile – hey presto! New hotness!_

 

_Mt.DOOM replied:_

_She can stay in MY kitchen. I cd slam her ass into the counter real good til she cries. Then she can make me a sammich. ;)_

 

_NedWhite &Blue replied:_

_Dude, not cool._

 

_HazzaHardon replied:_

_U gay bro?_

 

_Mt.DOOM replied:_

_Ye, u gotta b a nonce to not want summa that pussy :P_

 

She closed the window before she really was sick. She felt unclean. Even though she had said the same and worse to her mother's face, she still didn't want strangers saying that shit online behind her back. And the stuff they were saying about _her._ She shuddered and curled into a ball on her bed. She was profoundly glad that she had never become a model. It had chewed up Uncle Jaime and spat him out, and it would have done the same to her if those were the kinds of comments she'd have to put up with.

 

She needed her family right now. Some kind of comfort and care. But her Dad was rubbish at emotional drama, and Uncle Tyrion was already dealing with Tommen. It wouldn't be fair to ask him to do more. Uncle Renly and Uncle Stannis... Her heart twinged. They might hate her for unwittingly deceiving them all these years. She didn't want them to hate her. Stannis was stern, but kind to those he thought deserving of it; Renly was like the older brother she had always wanted - loving, funny and full of sage advice. She _really_ didn't want them to hate her.

 

She curled up into a ball on her bed, and started crying again. She felt so tired and alone. Before she fell asleep, she allowed herself to whimper:

“I want my Mummy...”

 

_********************************************_

 

She awoke to banging on her door. She unsteadily got to her feet and opened the door. Hotpie was standing there, along with his friends Arya and Gendry. Although she supposed that she knew that she had known them so long now that they counted as her friends too.

“Come downstairs, loser.” Arya said without much further. “We know you're having a shit day, so we're having a _Hannibal_ marathon – with or without you.”

“We've brought food and drink,” Gendry interjected quickly – clearly worried that his girlfriend had put her foot in it. Were they even dating? There had been _something_ there as long as Myrcella had known them.

“Eh. You had me at _Hannibal_. And drink. Lemme sort my mascara out and I'll be downstairs.”

 

Myrcella wasn't entirely sure how the drinking game had started, but it had. Hannibal makes some cannibalism-based innuendo: Drink. Will turns on “Grahamvision”: Drink. Hannibal ogles Will: Drink. Will does something with the dogs: Drink. You're not sure how they got that past the censors? Drink. Hannibal cooks something: Eat _and_ drink.

 

In spite of all the cooking that she'd done that day, she hadn't actually eaten an awful lot. It just felt good to be having some fun with a group of people who weren't going to go away and type a tell-all piece on her. At least she hoped so, anyway. So she cut loose until she could barely focus on the screen anymore. The carpet she was sitting on seemed to be spinning.

“Guys, 'm gonna barfroom.” She got up unsteadily and went towards the vicinity of the bathroom – using the wall as a prop and guide.

“You okay?” Gendry asked.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved his concern away. Arya was sleeping on his shoulder, she didn't want to disrupt such a cute scene. “Just needa loo.”

 

As soon as she locked the door of the bathroom behind her, she vomited violently into the toilet. She washed her face as well. She didn't exactly feel sober, but she felt a lot better. Maybe she would go and sleep the rest off. She climbed the stairs up to her attic room. She was about to start getting undressed, when she noticed just how pretty the sky was outside of the Velux window. The moon was cold and bright and full of it's own brand of curious comfort. She wanted to get a better view, unhindered by the dirty window. Since Myrcella was at the stage of intoxication where the room is no longer spinning, but stupid ideas still seem sane, she opened the window as far as it would go and clambered onto the roof. She crawled along the tiles and sat there, gazing up at the clear, full moon and feeling the first thing akin to peace that she'd felt all day.

 

She sat this way a few minutes, until she became vaguely aware of some movement in the corner of her eye. She heard a hiss:

“Shit!” Arya popped her head out of the window down. “Myrcella Joanna Baratheon you get your arse down here!”

“Nope. I'm havin' fun out here.” She replied with a pout.

“Sweet Stranger...” Arya's head disappeared again.

 

Myrcella began to feel quite mulish. How dare they tell her what do?! She's been through three of the seven hells today, she feels entitled to a little star-gazing, dammnit! By the time Hotpie popped his head out of the window, she felt like staying on the roof til dawn out of sheer bloody-mindedness.

“Myrcie, come down.” He coaxed.

“Make me,” she retorted.

“I know that you're having a bad day, but it's going to get better...” He said with concern etched onto his face.

 

Myrcella burst out laughing.

“I'm not suicidal, silly! Can't a girl look at the stars when she's feeling blue?”

“Uh, not when she's on the roof sweetie.”

“Ah, bugger off Hotpie...”

 

She heard a scuffle inside her room:

“Gendry, lemme go!”

“No way! You are not climbing out there!”

“Don't tell me what to do!”

“I'll tell you if you're trying to do something stupid if I need to,” his voice sounded a little strained – as though Arya were doing her utmost to escape.

“I'll be fine, stupid!” She growled out.

“Arya Stark, you are a grown-ass woman and not a cat! It's a miracle that Myrcie made it, I'm not letting you splatter your brains on the pavement to prove a point!”

 

Arya was conspicuosly silent as all sounds of a struggle stopped.

“Okay.” She conceded quietly. Myrcella didn't stop herself from groaning quietly.

“Oh, just kiss already...” She muttered to herself, Gendry's earlier words making her queasily aware of the distance between her seat and the ground.

“I'll call Jon,” she heard Arya announce. “He'll know what to do.” If Myrcella recalled correctly, he was a firefighter. She groaned. He would probably advise them to call the fire brigade, and that would mean _fuss._ Very public fuss.

“Fine. I'm coming in,” she called.

 

As she started shifting down the roof, a tile slipped and smashed on the pavement below.

A wave of vertigo hit her as she realised what a stupid thing she had done. That shattered piece of slate could have been her! She whimpered slightly and screwed her eyes shut.

“Myrcie?” Willow called out cautiously. “You coming?”

“Nope. Can't move. Too high up.” She hated how breathy her voice was.

“Shit. I'm calling Jon.” Arya announced once more.

 

**********************************

 

Cersei clutched her glass of red and reminded herself, once more, that she was a lioness – dammnit! Whatever inconsequential drivel that WCTV+1 was playing didn't register as she sat in the living room of her King's Landing apartment. Alone. Joff wasn't answering her calls, Myrcella and her father had made it clear that they were beyond disgusted with her, and Tommen was in the clutches of that _imp_ until he went off to go and play house with Jaime and his bitch girlfriend.

 

Cersei was no fool. She knew her best days as a model were behind her. There was no place in this world for a female model that wasn't an Essosi teenage twig, unless you were Brienne Tarth. Her stomach lurched slightly at the thought of her. If there had been no Cersei Lannister, there would have been no Brienne Tarth; if Cersei hadn't opened everyone's eyes to the virtues of “non-conventional body types,” Brienne wouldn't have found work outside of a plus size catalogue. But Brienne had appeared just as Cersei's star was waning, around about the time of Jaime's accident. Cersei could have tolerated the giantess' friendly rivalry graciously, if it hadn't been for Jaime.

 

When they were younger, they had told themselves that they were like Ptolemies of Ancient Egypt. Brother-husband and sister-wife propogating a golden dynasty. She was his Cleopatra. But little-by-little, they had changed. Cersei had broken off their relationship when she first got with Robert (she had loved him once), and Jaime had never forgiven her since. Even when she gradually grew more and more disillusioned with Robert, she refused to leave him. She was determined to secure his position at the top, and by the Gods marrying Robert would help. Her relationship with Jaime degenerated into a guilty little secret that made them both feel terrible the minute the other left. So, it had ended not long after the birth of Tommen – Cersei herself unsure as to the paternity of any of her three children, and Jaime's poor romantic heart twisted and darkened almost beyond repair. Or so she had thought.

 

She had found out about Brienne and Jaime from the pages of a gossip rag that someone had left lying around at a shoot for her positive body image charity. It burned. Jealousy writhed around in her guts, poisoning her from within. So it wasn't enough that the Tarth bitch had taken her position as the world's number one model, now she had taken Jaime too? It didn't matter that Cersei didn't want him, she just didn't want anyone else to have him either.

 

After that her world seemed to crumble away – bit by bit. When the paternity test results were leaked, everything else took a tumble into the dark. In the last twenty-four hours the majority of her few remaining contracts had been cancelled, she had been ousted from her own charity; and now her own sweet children wanted nothing to do with her.

 

It had hurt like nothing else to see her own daughter look at her with that much loathing, for those _horrible things_ to come crashing out of her mouth. But what could she have said? _Actually, your uncle is your father and I didn't know that for sure til yesterday – but please don't judge me too harshly?_ Maybe, just maybe if they had been fighting in private she might have told her – but with fat Bob and his lapdog lawyer listening in, no dice. Instead she made the worst mistake of her life and slapped her little girl and said the most hurtful thing she could think of. Now, sitting there in the lonely night, all she wanted to do was take it all back.

 

But Cersei would stay away. She would respect her children's wishes, even if all she wanted was to hug her darling little cubs close.

 

***********************************

 

All Myrcella wanted to do was to wake up and find herself inside safe in bed. But every time she opened her eyes just a little bit, she was still on the roof with nothing between her and a sudden drop should she put a foot wrong. Unsurprisingly, she felt quite sober now.

 

Her knuckles were grazed and stinging from her attempts to cling onto the tiles. She felt a vibration between her hands.

“Don't come up here!” She begged without opening her eyes. “You'll only get trapped too!”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.” A voice rumbled from next to her. Her eyes flew open and she turned to face the auburn-haired man sitting by her side.

“Mr Blue Eyes!” She exclaimed.

“Crying Girl!” He returned, equally surprised.

“Well, you would remember that – wouldn't you?” She mumbled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go! I hope Cersei's a little less of a 2-D harpy than in chapter one and that you all have fun figuring out who's who in the comments section. I enjoyed coming up with these user names waaay too much. I think I'm little hooked, see Chiaroscuro...
> 
> Also, shout out to the Fannibals!
> 
> Chapter title is from "Underground" by David Bowie. And yes. I miss him too.

**Author's Note:**

> Bloody hell, that was all a bit... Dramatic, wasn't it? Sorry about the melodrama. Calm and more three-dimensional characterisation to come!
> 
> Title comes from Underground by David Bowie and I'm on tumblr as empress-irony, if you want to say hi.


End file.
